Between the Ash Trees
by sinkingsidewalks
Summary: Two sixteen-year-old geniuses make their way through an airport on the way to the biggest change in their lives- meeting each other. Or: Another Academy!Era Fic
1. Layover Pt 1

Jemma settled down into the end chair of the long row of hard plastic seats at Heathrow Airport and, with barely shaking fingers, struggled to extract her book from her burgeoning backpack. The one she wanted though was stuck, caught between her organic chemistry textbook and the sleek silver digital camera her Mum had bequeathed to her before they left the house and shoved under the packet of cheese and onion crisps her Dad had snuck in while Mum was off digging for the gift.

 _"_ _It's not every day our only daughter goes off to America."_

 _"_ _Yeah Shrimp, you'll have to show us what your new fancy digs look like."_

Cole had rolled his eyes at Dad's ever attempts to be cool like his teenagers and Mason had only squeezed the arm around her shoulders tighter. Then, she'd left her older brothers and family home behind her to head off to the airport.

The book tugged free and the crisps crunched to smithereens. Jemma settled her bag on the seat next to her and paused to listen to the announcement over the loudspeaker. It was the boarding announcement for a flight to Paris, not hers. Her stomach rolled a little. She had another hour and a half before her flight would be called.

Rushing through a deep breath, she ran her fingers lightly over the worn spine of the extracted book.

 _Margaret Carter, The Unsung Hero of WWII_

Jemma had read the biography more times than she could count, enough so that she could quote entire passages of it off the top of her head. This edition had been a Christmas gift from 'Santa' when she was seven or eight. She'd immediately delved into the story of the secret strength behind the Howling Commandos and her Mum had been forced to set the book atop the refrigerator when it came time for Christmas dinner to stop Jemma from reading it under the table. Her interest had only been reinvigorated when, a year prior, two agents had knocked on the front door informing Mr. and Mrs. Simmons of their interest in their daughter and Jemma had been introduced to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Her stomach twisted and her cold fingers jittered just slightly as the reality sunk down on her. She was alone. She was about to leave her homeland and go study in a foreign country and she was alone. It was hard to admit she was afraid. But fear was what made her hands shake and her stomach twist and turn and her tongue feel too thick in her throat.

Up until that morning she'd been excited. She _was_ excited. But she was also alone. And she was also afraid. Who would blame her, she was only sixteen.

Jemma opened the book and tried very hard to sink into the familiar comfort of the words she knew by heart.


	2. Layover Pt 2

Fitz was on his third trip to America. The previous two years he'd spent speeding through every ounce of engineering he could get his hands on at MIT in the aim of _this_. This was what he'd been searching for, this was something he could sink his teeth into, this was something beyond all the dimwits at MIT who dismissed him because they couldn't understand how he was smarter than them and almost half their age.

If only he didn't miss his flight.

He raced through the crowd, his backpack slapping against his spine, weaving through the hoard of dazed passengers.

"Bloody Heathrow."

He hated this airport, more so, he _despised_ it. He didn't understand why he'd had to fly from Glasgow down to London first rather than just get a flight directly from up North. But he hadn't booked the flight, his Mum had, and he hadn't wanted to be a bother and change it. And now he was paying the price.

It would be just his luck to miss the flight. To show up at the Academy late and be forever branded not just the young one or the Scottish one but also the late one. _That_ would invariably make it harder to find favour with any of his colleagues. Well, harder than usual. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself a little harder, shouldering past a middle aged Mum arguing in the middle of the hall with an annoyed child.

With gasping lungs and burning calves, he collapsed into one of the hard seats by his gate and finally looked at his watch. There was still five minutes to spare. He groaned, just a little, to himself and slumped down in the uncomfortable seat, squishing the designs he'd so carefully rolled up and stored in his bag even further.

He scrubbed his hands across his face, ridding it of a bead or two of sweat. When he opened his eyes again, he blinked twice with shock. The girl sitting across from him was hunched over in her chair reading, so engrossed that she hadn't even seemed to pause to notice his blustering entrance. He glanced around for her parents, she didn't look more than thirteen, _definitely_ younger than him, but it seemed she was alone as well.

If he were braver, maybe he would have gotten up and switched benches and started some kind of conversation. But he wasn't.

The loudspeaker turned on again, and both he and the girl looked up to the ceiling like it would help them hear better.

 _British Airways fight two-three-nine to Boston is ready for boarding, if passengers could please make their way towards gate B35._

Fitz heaved in a breath and hitched his bag higher up on his shoulders as he stood. It was time for something new.

xx

Hey! Thanks for getting this far! I don't really know what this is, it's either just a weird little story or the prologue to something bigger. So if you enjoy it and want me to continue, please let me know! You can also find me over on Tumblr at sinkingsidewalks


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